Things We Wish We Knew When We Were 19 Remix

In honor of Hilly's day late and a dollar short birthday, I thought I'd rerun last year's dedicated post with some slight remixing. Even I can use the occasional reminding...

Happy 20th Birthday Hilbils!!! The novelty of your pretty Sheridan French Neve dress present may dim. But, hopefully the following tidbits of wisdom cobbled together by the bff Kimba and I, will last a lifetime...

Things We Wish We Knew When We Were 19 + a year...

It's the accumulation of many small decisions over time, more so than the few big ones, that chart the paths you take in life.

Be grateful for every thing no matter how inconsequential it may seem. Being grateful attracts more things into your life for which to be grateful.

There is a difference between being tenacious and swimming upstream. Learn to distinguish between the two for one leads to success and the other to frustration.

Work daily on your relationship with God, even if it's just a simple "good morning" and "good night", for it will provide you with a level of peace, security and contentment that no person can give you.

You still get a great tan wearing an SPF 30 and doing so will save you a fortune at the dermatologist later in life.

Whether it's a hairdresser, manicurist, trainer or masseuse, never hesitate to voice your requests, concerns or discomfort. YOU know what's best for you, not them. Also, they are not your therapist so expect that anything you divulge will be repeated.

Be curious about the habits of highly evolved and successful people and apply them to your life.

Yoga is good.

Exercise your physical talents as often as possible cuz the day you realize you can no longer do that gainer off the diving board you will experience a sense of loss that's like a death.

The face, neck, and back of hands are the first places a woman shows signs of aging so take particular care.

Spend time with your grandparents and ask lots of questions because when you get older you will develop an insatiable curiosity about your heritage.

There really is such a thing as karma. You will get back exactly what you put out.

Incorporate breast self exams into your shower routine. Just like shaving and deep conditioning it should become a biweekly habit.

Your family loves you and cares more deeply about you than anyone and always has your best interest at heart.

Trust your instincts for they are an invaluable tool. If something doesn't feel right, it usually isn't.

Excessive drinking does lead to terrible decisions and consequences. You'll will also come to appreciate that the first cocktail is always the best. The ones that follow are just chasing a ghost.

Outward appearances mean nothing if you are not grounded and confident. It is never enough just to be a pretty girl.

No boy is worth pushing your values and instincts aside for.

Although 'tis always nice to give people room to grow, most personalities are set by first grade. Adjust your expectations accordingly and you will save yourself a world of hurt and disappointment.

Your grades and study habits will shape the rest of your life and provide you the best opportunity for a life of independence and success.

And, the adults were right; everything in moderation is best, time does heal all wounds and, this too did pass...

And, in honor of another year, may I add;

"The woman who follows the crowd will usually get no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever been."

-Albert Einstein (via Awelltraveledwoman)

Kindness of the bff Kimba for collaborating with me on this post. Of course, her contributions are easily recognizable as the more eloquent words of wisdom. The ones with the bitter, hippie bent belong to yours truly...XXOO

6 Years And Counting...

Well, @TCSKxoxo...traditionally, it's sugar...

But, around here 'twas a pair of the Orlebar Brown Bulldogs in geometric navy for Babe, and a Simon Pearce Woodbury Flare Vase and roses pour moi...

But, never one to miss an excuse for sugar, I covered that base with a celebratory, post 4 miler breakfast of chocolate croissants...

After indulging my two croissant sugar coma lounging around the pool, coach gave me the option of either tennis or biking...

I opted for the less sweaty, just slip on a cover up bike ride...

Trading in working on my forehand, for working on my no hand...

No such success would've been had on the court...

Since there weren't any jumbo Chester River crabs available from our source for our traditional anniversary dinz, we stuffed our swollen from running, sugar, humidity, and biking piggy's into some real shoes...

Then spent the ride to Ruth's Chris consoling our shocked feet, telling them they'd be back home in the security of their Rainbows before they knew it...

Babe looked as gorgeous as ever...

While I looked as though I had...spent all day in a pool, went bike riding, threw my chlorinated hair in a pony, tossed a dress over my still slathered in sunscreen bod, skipped the makeup and said, I'm ready...

As Babe began making noises about a late night walk while waiting for the check...

It was all I could do to keep from lying my tired head on the table...

But, after 6 years, Babe knows that there's one surefire way to wake me back up and that's, more sugar...

I came in celebrating our "Sugar Anniversary" with chocolate croissants and, I went out with chocolate frozen yogurt...

Kindness of Babe for an amazing 6 years. I am onnne lucky girl to have found you...XXOO

I'll Have A Bourbon And Dumbwaiter Please...

Musta been those weensie nips of Whiskey Sour my 7 year old, freshly bathed and nightgown'd self snuck from my parent's blender during their cocktail parties that evolved into my fondness for bourbon. I mean, a cherry garnish can sell just about anything at that age...

My taste eventually graduated to Bourbon and Ginger's but, these days this lightweight would be just as content having one of The Old Wood Co. tables made from recycled Marker's Mark, Wild Turkey and Jim Beam barrels to sit my Diet Coke on...

No calories...no poor judgement...nooo hangover...

Although...maybe I should build my tolerance back up slowly by starting with the revolving dumbwaiter. If I can hold my dumbwaiter, I'll ask the barkeep to make my next one a table...

Kindness of my mother who will not GASP! in horror upon reading the first paragraph. They were juuust li'l sips and stolen cherries Mom. I was hardly pulling a Drew Barrymore in my Lanz jammies. Now, all your missing bridge chocolates are another story. THAT, on the other hand, has developed into quite theee problem...XXOO

Herbed Peasant Bread

I received a couple requests for my Herbed Peasant Bread recipe after it made an appearance on last weeks Insalada Capresese post. And, by my I mean, I've laid claim to and switched it up a smidge but, it's real genesis was a late 90's issue of House Beautiful. I think...

Herbed Peasant Bread

3 tablespoons minced fresh herbs (chives, parsley, basil,marjoram and/or sage)

3 tablespoons olive oil

4 large slices dense crusty bread (1/2 to 3/4 inch thick)

2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Now, here's where I change it up depending on what herbs I have on hand and how many peeps I'm feeding. I used;

2 tablespoons fresh chives, rinsed and dried

2 tablespoons fresh, dried thyme leaves

2 tablespoons fresh rosemary, rinsed and dried

6 tablespoons olive oil

Combine herbs and oil in a small bowl. Let stand for 15 minutes...

Place bread (I used a whole loaf of crusty French bread cuz we're piggy) on a baking sheet. Brush bread lightly with half of the herb (just) oil...

Broil until bread is just beginning to color, watching closely so that bread doesn't burn (a frequent issue 'round here), about 3 minutes. Turn bread over and brush with remaining herb oil, now distributing herbs equally. Sprinkle with grated Parmesan cheese. Broil until cheese topping is golden brown, about 3 minutes, watching closely, again, so that you don't burn bread like moi...

Serve bread warm. Annnd, preferably unburned...

Kindness of the Duke and Duchess Chung for bringing me a boatload of fresh herbs from their garden as a hostess gift. And, that was on top of...a Lafco candle, a bottle of wine, Cohibas from Havana annnd a bag full of goodies from Trader Joe's. Ummm, when y'all coming back? It was like hosting Santa and Mrs. Claus for the weekend! XXOO

Boxwood Cocktail Fodder

Babe developed a real appreciation for English boxwood during our C'ville stint...

Our li'l cottage had outdoor English boxwood "rooms" where we took advantage of year round al fresco dining and the fire pit. The later usually finding me sportin' jammies under my Nana's mink stole and Uggs...

So, when Babe and I read this NYT article about the the National Boxwood Collection at the National Arboretum, I set up a private tour as one of his birthday gifts. Unfortunately, my crystal ball failed to mention that the outdoor walking tour I was booking would fall on theee hottest day of the summer during theee hottest point in the afternoon...

Forging ahead with plans, we arrived at the Arboretum and steeled ourselves for our 2pm, 115° traipse through the Boxwood Collection...

While Babe and our tour guide were prattling on about boxwood, I was going through resuscitation drills in my head wondering who was gonna go first, the already hot natured Babe or our gracious guide who had about as much business being out in that scorcher as children and pets...

Our fortitude paid off royally when we ran into the only other person nuts enough to be on the grounds in that heat, world renown boxwood expert and curator of the Collection, Lynn R. Batdorf...

We learned, and will be feasting off of at cocktail parties for yearsss to come, that dating back to BC, it was widely believed evil spirits lurked inside porous wood and jumped out of trees and bushes to attach themselves to passersby. But, since boxwood is so dense it sinks, it was considered evil spirit proof...

Thus evolved the traditions of surrounding homes with hedges of boxwood and the ever popular, All are welcome for no bogeymen reside here boxwood flanking of the front door...

Babe and I were on such a high after this chance encounter with Mr. Batdorf and cocktail fodder acquisition, we decided to soldier on to the Bonsai Collection passing by the garden shed "all the rich people bring their architects to copy" along the way...

Surprisingly, we were both completely captivated by the Bonsais that we had earlier pooh poohed...

But, right around the time we got to the Collection's in training for 400 years pride and joy, I started wilting. And, if I was wilting, that meant that Babe was about to spontaneously self-combust...

One glance at the rapidly changing shades of his purple polo and the Jack Bauer 24 count down clock started tick ticking in my head. Fortunately, my earlier preparation paid off and I was able to hustle him and our guide back to the air conditioned Information trailer before his explosion wiped out all of humanity and the growing concern of her family resulted in the launch of a search and rescue party...

Kindness of everyone for not holding my lack of story retelling talent against the esteemed Mr. Batdorf for his version was much more eloquent and detailed. And, our volunteer guide for being such a willing sport looong after her soaked in ice water neck kerchief had gone bone dry...XXOO

Exit Martyr Stage Left

While some of us are relaxing to the sounds of the surf...

Indulging in the salty, summer evening air...

The rest of us are stuck inside with residual piper paying in the form of a heap of ironing that we foolishly guiltily offered to start doing ourselves after May's spreadsheetgate...

This martyr routine has done run it's course! Genevieve, you are hereby, officially RE hired. Either that, or I'm only wearing non-ironables for the rest o' the summer...

Kindness of moi for remembering that, from here on out, I should confine all martyr routines to short runs. Take the stage, give the performance of a lifetime, accept the Tony, take a bow, then immediately exit stage left...XXOO

Rabbit Rabbit!

Rabbit, rabbit! First day of a new month, first day of new resolve...

I had good reason to hold my stomach on the Ferris Wheel Saturday night...

I'd done quite a bit on overindulging during our annual boardwalk jaunt...

And, that doesn't include the peach martini I had en route...

Norrr the pit stop at the Greek Festival where I polished off an entire serving of Loukoumades doused in powdered sugar, cinnamon, and some kinda crushed nut, all floating in a scrumdillyicious pool of honey. OR the multiple sips of Babe's milk shake OR the Thrasher's french fries...

Yup. Rabbit, rabbit! I'll take my month's end gift in the form of a Butt Police pass while I make up for this past weekend's tour of gluttony s'il vous plait...

Kindness of Babe who will please save me from myself next weekend. No sweets, no matter how much I whine! Exxxcept for maybe just a weensie sliver of cake. I mean, it'll be our anniversay and it would probably be bad luck or something if I didn't have just a smidge...XXOO